


It Comes for Us All

by Leahelisabeth (fortheloveofcamelot)



Series: All for the Game Tumblr Prompts [9]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Grim Reapers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-03 20:44:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20459198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortheloveofcamelot/pseuds/Leahelisabeth
Summary: Neil dies but it isn't the end, it's the beginning.Written for a Tumblr prompt."I would kill for a slice of cake right now...literally"





	It Comes for Us All

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IKnowWhoYouAre_Damianos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IKnowWhoYouAre_Damianos/gifts).

Neil looked up from his position flat on his back. He felt surprisingly clear and light. His head wasn’t spinning from blood loss: it didn’t hurt to move. His father had left the room, probably taking a break to refuel before he came back to torture Neil a little more. It would be in his best interest to get out before Nathan came back.

He pulled himself to his feet, again surprised by how easy it was. He moved toward the door and jumped when a short figure with blond hair, multiple facial piercings, and a totally extra black cloak with a hood appeared out of the shadows.

“What the fuck,” Neil said. “How did you get in here? You need to leave now.”

The person shrugged. “They can’t see me.”

“What? How can they not see you? You…”

The figure cut him off with a wave of the hand. He pointed with one long, black tipped finger to something a little to the right of Neil.

“Oh,” was all Neil could say. He was standing over himself, or what was left of himself. The face was mutilated almost beyond recognition and blood pooled and thickened below every limb. If Neil didn’t recognize some of the more prominent scars, he would have thought this was some other unfortunate sod who had gotten caught up in his father’s wrath.

“You’re dead.”

“Fuck, my mother is going to kill me,” Neil sighed. 

“Can’t kill you twice,” the figure grinned mockingly, white teeth glinting in the low light of the basement.

“So who the fuck are you then?” Neil asked.

The figure grinned wider, face stretching like wax. “I’m Death. But you can call me Andrew.”

“Death has a name?” Neil asked.

“Can’t very go by my formal title with my friends and family.” Andrew rolled his eyes at him.

“Death has friends and family?” Neil echoed.

“You know, everyone gets it wrong. Death is always seen as this lonely figure, like he only ever interacts with people when their lives are about to end. What do you think I do in my down time?” Andrew asked.

“You have down time? Doesn’t someone die like every second? How many are you missing while you’re talking to me?” Neil frowned.

“Ah see, that’s another misconception. I’m one of five Deaths currently covering Baltimore. It’s just a job really,” Andrew explained.

“Oh, how long do you usually stick around?” Neil asked.

Andrew’s look became calculating. “Usually just long enough to say ‘you’re dead’ and send them where they’re going.”

“Oh, so why are you still talking to me?”

“Kevin’s been bugging me to find an apprentice. Tell me, Neil, what would you do with the power of life and death?” Andrew stared intently.

Neil shrunk away. “I’ve never really thought about it.”

Andrew looked him in the eyes for a few moments longer and then nodded. “It’s not a really difficult job. We sense the ones we are meant to take and we do what feels right to us. There is a sort of knowing that arises when we take up the mantle.”

“Can you only kill people if it’s their time?” Neil asked, something wild pulsing in the place his heart used to beat.

Andrew smiled slightly. It somehow looked more real than the wide grin from earlier. “We’re not supposed to kill people before their time but if there is a higher power than Death, I have yet to meet her and no one complains too much if a rapist, a pedophile, or perhaps a murderer might show up in the afterlife a little ahead of schedule.”

“I want to kill my father,” Neil admitted.

“Why?” Andrew asked.

“He’s killed a lot of people. Chasing me has taken up a lot of his time and energy, his focus. Now that I’m gone, who will he kill next?” Neil said softly.

Andrew held out his hands, a scythe formed out of the air, black as midnight. “You can come with me,” he said. “All you have to do is take this scythe and your journey as Death begins.”

Neil hesitated but he reached out. It was cool to the touch, both intangible and the most real thing in the room. An awareness flooded him and he could feel everyone in the city; he could tell exactly how long each of them had left in this world and his father’s clock was counting down to zero.

“Oh, he’s meant to die anyway,” Neil said, surprised.

“Your intent changed his time,” Andrew said. “Follow me.” And he melted through the door.

Walking through walls would take some getting used to but he followed Andrew up the stairs and toward the kitchen. His father was alone, eating a sandwich.

“What do I do?” Neil asked.

“Just touch him with the scythe.” Andrew stood by the wall, leaving it up to Neil.

Neil closed his eyes briefly before stretching out with the scythe. Nathan’s coughed, a piece of his sandwich lodged in his throat. He tried to swallow it down but it only got more stuck. He stood, scrambling to find something or someone to help him but it was already too late. He fell to the ground, face turning blue and then he was standing over his body.

“You little bastard,” Nathan growled, lunging for Neil. Neil threw up the scyther between them, throwing himself backward. Nathan grabbed for the handle and the moment he touched it, his spirit disintegrated into nothing.

“What the fuck just happened?” Neil asked, feeling like he should be breathing hard even though he no longer needed to breathe at all.

“You sent him to hell. Well not HELL hell. That isn’t real. But you sent him into the nothing.” Andrew dematerialized his scythe.

“Could that have happened to me?” Neil asked.

“No, that only happens when spirits try to steal the scythe. Only the worst sort see Death and try to take his weapon,” Andrew said.

Neil nodded even though he really didn’t understand. “So what happens next?”

Andrew shook himself, the black cloak receding until it looked more like a plain black hoodie. “Next we get you a proper outfit. And then...I could kill for a slice of cake.”


End file.
